


It’s About Having Faith

by weepingnaiad



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Double Penetration, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-18
Updated: 2011-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/pseuds/weepingnaiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  For abigail89’s request of <i>Pike/McCoy/Boyce – bottle of bourbon.</i>  This ended up being a bit of h/c with Bones needing some TLC from Pike & Boyce because Jim’s gone off and gotten himself in some serious trouble and it looks like he’s not getting out of it this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s About Having Faith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abigail89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/gifts).



> **Beta:** This thing got way too long to be considered a drabble/ficlet so was beta’d by the lovely, jlh and, yes, I even made abigail89 beta her own request. Thanks, darlin’s, I couldn’t have done it without y’all!  
>  **Disclaimer:** The characters in this story belong to their copyright owners and I’m merely allowing them a bit of fun in the spirit of transformative works and mean no infringement of any kind. I do promise to return them with smiles on.

Leonard ignores the chime. He can’t face another ‘friendly’ face, and he sure as hell isn’t giving another ‘interview’; more like The Inquisition is what they’ve all been. What he wants -- no _needs_ \-- isn’t available, not here in these sterile quarters, not among the perfectly arranged furniture, and definitely not within view of ‘fleet headquarters.

He feels like his every move is under scrutiny. The world’s gone suspicious, surprisingly hostile, barren. All he’s gotten from so-called ‘friends’ is some honest worry, feigned concern, a shit ton of pity, and even veiled scorn. He growls at that thought, snarling at how quickly Jim was abandoned, thrown to the wolves.

The doubt from all quarters is dragging him down, wearing on his confidence, when he’s craving warmth and blue, blue eyes. It’s almost like the whole ‘fleet is demanding Leonard convict Jim and Spock in absentia right along with the Tribunal. But Leonard doesn’t believe his lover and, even if only grudgingly admitted, friend, are traitors. They’d _never_ collude with the Klingons. It’s not that Leonard is ignoring the facts or blind to the truth. He’s listening to his instincts, his knowledge of those two. He’d bet his life on Jim and Spock. In fact, he _had,_ more than a time or two.

The chime’s ringing again, harder, more insistent, but Leonard’s still not answering it. However, his visitors aren’t inclined to pay attention to his wishes and the door slides open to reveal Admirals Christopher Pike and Philip Boyce.

Leonard groans.

“It’s still breaking and entering if you use your Command override when there’s no cause to.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his glare ratchets up well past “unwelcoming” and straight into “baleful”. Of course, it doesn’t dissuade those two. They just saunter in and take over. _Fucking Admirals._

Chris is making himself at home; already has three glasses out of the cabinet and is pouring amber liquid in them. Leonard’s trying to ignore the shape of that bottle, the very idea that they’d brought the incredibly rare and knock-you-on-your-ass Pappy Van Winkle bourbon.

“I used my Medical override, Len.” Phil counters as he settles on the sofa, looking rather too handsome in his civvies.

“Still a violation, _Admiral._ ” Leonard’s not in the mood to banter or be civil.

“Wouldn’t have had to, if you’d answer your goddamned comm!” Phil snaps, his eyes flashing hotly, giving away more than Leonard expects, before he’s calm, cool and oh, so confident once again.

That glimpse of fire and honest worry gives Leonard a second’s pause, but he still huffs out, “Bullshit!” His back’s ramrod straight and he’s fuming. “It’s bad enough I have to look at that goddamned building--”

Leonard is just getting started, but there’s a tumbler pressing into his palm, a warm hard on his shoulder urging him to sit down, and a firm body behind him, forcing him forward.

A soft baritone rasps, “Sit down, Len,” against his neck and he shivers. He’s such a sucker for command types. It’ll be his downfall, but he complies and finds himself tucked between Chris and Phil despite himself.

Phil’s lips are drawn in a thin line, but he’s uncharacteristically silent, merely sipping his bourbon, a slight twitching of his foot the only other indication he’s in no mood for Len’s shit.

Chris settles easily, one thigh rubbing against Leonard’s as he stretches and gets comfortable. Leonard’s got one arm wrapped defensively around his middle, shoulders tense, heavy glass resting on his knee. He keeps his eyes forward, still too angry for all this.

The silence lengthens and Leonard fidgets, swallows the bourbon too quickly. It’s a travesty to guzzle this bourbon, but the quiet’s making him antsy.

“Hey! Go easy on that!” Chris’s tone is teasing, but a scolding is the last thing Leonard needs.

He erupts off the sofa and growls, “I don’t need a goddamned keeper! And I sure as hell don’t need another fuckin’ Admiral lecturing me!” The glass drops to the floor with a loud thud, but doesn’t break. It just rolls, nearly under Leonard’s foot. He’s so tempted to kick it, to punch something, _anything,_ but he knows it’s all for naught, that nothing he does will help get Jim out of this jam.

He rounds on Chris and Phil, “What the hell are you here for, anyway? Come to check up on me? Plant some more surveillance devices?”

Phil stands, his eyes flashing cold blue fury, and Leonard flinches as his space is invaded, but he doesn’t back down and can’t turn away.

“You done?”

It’s Chris who speaks and he’s so fucking calm that it makes Leonard even angrier. He tears his eyes from Phil’s and starts in on Chris. “No! I’ve had about all I can take of this shit! Jim’s out there somewhere and I know he didn’t just hie off on his own.” He takes one step toward Chris who’s just looking up at him, his face an unreadable mask. “He was ordered to it and now something’s gone wrong and he’s been dumped like a hot potato. So, no, _Admiral Pike,_ I’m not done! I’m fucking fed up and I want some goddamned answers!”

Two palms close on his biceps, fingers wrapping tightly and squeezing. “Enough!” Phil hisses against his ear.

Leonard stops, but he can feel the fear-fueled anger burning him up inside as he meets Chris’s gray eyes. There’s no humor in them, not a trace, but he’s not angry. He looks… worried. But he’s shaking his head, a self-deprecating half-smile barely pulling at his lips.

Chris admits, “Len, I’m more out of the loop than you. Don’t know a damned thing and haven’t since I walked off the Enterprise’s bridge over Vulcan.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him and Leonard slumps. He knew that, knew what that slug had done to Chris; the damage to more than his spine, just what it had taken from him. He feels like an idiot, but doesn’t know how to take the words back.

Before he can apologize, Chris stands. He takes a moment to sort out his balance, but only Leonard’s watchful eyes catch the hesitation. Then Chris is crowding him. He’s hemmed in, two warm, strong bodies preventing him from bolting.

“I don’t officially know shit, Len, but I’m no idiot, either. If anyone can make it back from whatever idiocy Starfleet Intelligence has gotten them into, it’ll be Jim and Spock. Have a little faith in that captain of yours.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” he asks, voice cracking from far too little hope and far too much despair.

He’s grabbed tight and pulled against Phil’s chest, eyes widening as Chris’s take on a wicked gleam when they meet Phil’s over his shoulder. His heart rate’s speeding and this time it’s not anger-fueled adrenaline spiking his blood.

“We came here to take care of you, asshole!” The whisper’s hot and familiar, its low rasp telling him as much about Phil’s intentions as the half-hard cock slotting against his butt.

His natural inclination is to argue, to fuss and struggle, but he groans instead, barely keeps the sound from being a whimper. He really can’t help himself. He’s held tight by Phil, equally pinned down by Chris, hot arousal overrunning the anger.

Chris gives him a Jim Kirk smirk and that sight forces the words out. “Don’t need looking after, dammit!” The slight tremor and lengthening of his vowels give him away.

“Of course you do, and I keep my promises. I swore I’d take care of you and I’m going to.” Chris’s breath brushes his cheek and the words drop like stones into Leonard’s gut, banking his lust.

“So you do know more than you’re telling?” he accuses, ice filling his veins.

Instead of reacting or letting him pull away, Chris advances, presses their chests together as his lips run along Leonard’s stubbled jaw. “No, Len. I gave Jim my word, just as he gave me his. If you haven’t figured it out by now, you’re the most important thing in his world, and he’s going to take care of you no matter how stubborn of an ass you are.”

Phil chuckles against Leonard’s neck and then he feels them shift. They’re kissing over his shoulder; he’s sandwiched between them, can feel the low rumble of approval from Chris, a subtle, possessive growl from Phil. And he’s getting hotter, wants in on that, flushes at the overpowering desires that are driving him. He’s not going to admit it, but he needs this; needs to not think; needs to be taken care of, and is humbled that Chris and Phil care enough to ignore his bitching. And he’s so hot for the two older men that he can’t see straight.

He grumbles at being ignored and that is all the consent they seem to need because Leonard quickly finds himself rumbled. He’s flat on his back on the large bed – at least Starfleet puts decent mattresses in even the most spartan of quarters. Everything’s happening so quickly and there are more hands stripping him and each other than two men have a right to. Jim’s skill and experience have spoiled Leonard, but even he can’t match these two for intensity and know-how.

There’s the hot press and slide of warm flesh, then there are calloused fingers and palms exploring his skin, but it’s the wet heat engulfing him that does it. Leonard’s never come so fast in his life, and even if he’s agreed to every damn thing Jim’s wanted to try, he’s never taken two cocks at once. But he doesn’t balk at the suggestion. It feels too natural and so fucking right, he wonders why the four of them haven’t done this before.

He assumes Chris would be in charge, but it’s Phil that runs the show. His voice is velvety-laced steel and his hands are sure, confident as he strokes, pushes, and prods. He’s an intuitive and intense lover with mutable blue eyes that shift from winter’s gray to the brightness of a Georgia summer sky.

At first, Leonard reclines, head on his hand and watches from the sidelines, too tired to join in. He doesn’t feel left out as Chris is stripped bare, splayed against the headboard, writhing. Seeing Admiral Christopher Pike laid out, abs flexing, wordless pleas spilling from kiss-bruised lips while Phil kneels between his legs is one of the hottest things Leonard’s ever witnessed. Until, that is, Phil turns that calculating gaze his way and it takes little more than a subtle nudge with Phil’s knee and a cocking of his head for Leonard to surge forward into Chris’s sphere. Leonard’s caught like a field mouse, arms immobile; Chris’s grip tight enough to bruise as his back’s pulled against a firm chest, heaving lungs rubbing wiry curls against his skin and he’s sandwiched between them again.

Leonard spreads his legs, feels uncomfortably exposed sitting like this, but there’s no doubt that he wants it. He’s heaving stuttering breaths and wriggling his ass against Chris’s hard abs. Phil is teasing his re-awakened cock with a skillful tongue as cool fingers probe his hole. He sinks into the multi-layered sensations, head dropping to Chris’s shoulder as Phil guides Chris’s cock to his hole. And then he’s crying out as he’s breached, Chris’s gasping sigh reverberating down his spine. His heart stutters and he’s a blissed out, moaning mess by the time Phil eases in and proceeds to blow his mind.

It’s all too intense, so fucking perfect that the hot, wet slide of their bodies and mouths obliterates all his fears. He’s a vessel, firmly anchored in the here and now, content with the push-pull of silky flesh, the squelch of lube, the hot breath against his skin. He’s bent nearly in two, thighs spread wide, ass skewered, obscenities flying from his lips until Chris pulls his head back and melds their lips. Leonard’s swallowing Chris’s grunts, breathing with him as he jerks and then stills, warmth rushing into Leonard. The tightness eases and Leonard relaxes, but Phil gets a wicked gleam in his eyes. He proceeds to fuck them both mercilessly until Leonard comes again. Who knew an Admiral had this much stamina?

Leonard’s a rag doll, limbs limp and head lolling, Chris no better. He’s just a warm lump under Leonard as Phil finally drags himself off the two of them. There’s warm breath and soft kisses brushing over his skin as he’s moved and tended. His mind is quiet, heart settling as he drifts lazily, warm and secure, his demons at rest.

He’s tucked up, held tight and sleeps.

~~*~~

Leonard awakes, lifting his head to rest on his hand. He gazes down at Chris whose face is buried in Phil’s neck, an arm and leg wrapped possessively around his husband. He looks so much younger like this, almost vulnerable, just like Jim when he finally allows himself to let go.

Phil’s eyes are open, his hand reaching up to rub away the creases in Leonard’s brow.

“How do you stand it?” Leonard whispers. That’s not the question he wants to ask, not the one he refuses to give voice to, but he has to say something. The silence in his head would consume him otherwise.

“Faith. Unswerving. Total belief in him.”

“But—“

“There are no buts, Len. Even if you want to kill him with your bare hands when he finally returns, there’s never a doubt.”

“I think I’ve already messed up then.”

Phil snorts softly. Chris grumbles but burrows more deeply into Phil, still asleep as far as Leonard can tell. “You believed in James T. Kirk before he believed in himself. Any fool can see that you still do.”

Leonard is about to argue, to admit that he can’t help wondering. The evidence had been pretty damning and the Tribunal’s verdict conclusive.

But Phil’s still talking, his voice quiet and intense. “It’ll bring him home – your faith in him. If he didn’t have that, didn’t have _you_ he wouldn’t fight so hard. And he’d probably not make it. But, trust me, even if he doesn’t say it, can’t actually admit it, he needs _you._ ”

Phil’s blue eyes are open and honest, broken. “You’re not just talking about Jim are you?” Leonard asks softly.

Phil swallows, tightens his arm, fingers tracing the scars on Chris’s back. He shakes his head and they understand one another.

He’s being tugged down, presses against Phil, arm beside Chris’s as he settles to sleep; the darkness doesn’t feel so alone now. “Thanks.”

Chris rumbles in answer, his leg moving to cover both Phil and Len’s legs. “Our pleasure, Len. Now go back to sleep, dammit.”

Leonard tenses, Phil just chuckles, but they do sleep.

~~*~~

Leonard’s comm goes off somewhere on the floor, waking him, but he’s too comfortable to move. Unless the building’s in flames, he’s not getting up. Just as he dozes off, another comm starts up, this one from the vicinity of the foot of the bed. His grumbling is joined by Chris’s, but neither move more than their eyelids. They blink at each other and settle back into the mattress, fingers linking over Phil’s abdomen.

Another comm buzzes, waking Phil. He twists out from under Leonard and Chris, fumbling for the unit on the nightstand. After much swearing, he flips the unit open. “Boyce here. This better be good.”

His voice has that low rasp to it and Leonard growls, “Dammit, Phil. It’s too early for you to sound like that.”

Phil leers at Leonard whose morning wood is turning into morning stone as Chris fondles his balls and rakes a finger over his perineum. He can’t help himself and moans out loud. He glares at Chris who smirks, knowing damn good and well what he’s doing. So Leonard does the only thing he can think of. He tackles Chris and kisses him senseless.

Of course, that’s when the voice on the comm blurts out, “Bones?” throwing Leonard into a tailspin.

“Jim? Where the hell are you?” Phil demands into the comm as Leonard’s scrambling over the mattress, grabbing for the unit.

“Nowhere near as interesting as you, I can promise you that,” Jim answers sounding far too cheerful.

Leonard has the unit in hand and has to take a deep breath before he can even speak. “Goddammit, Jim! Where in blue blazes are you?” He’s shouting, can’t help it. “Do you have any idea how worried I am? Do you know what the hell you put me through?”

“Bones, is Chris there, too?” Jim asks, completely ignoring Leonard’s questions.

“Yes.”

“Bones, you lucky dog!” Jim’s leering and Leonard doesn’t quite know what to say. Luckily, Jim continues, oblivious to Leonard’s confusion. “Listen up, all of you. I won’t have time to repeat myself.”

Leonard’s staring at the comm unit like it’s a snake. He’s dizzy with relief, shaking with it; that, or anger. It’s just like Jim to be so cavalier about being declared a traitor to the Federation, a _persona non grata_ to be dragged into a military prison on Andoria for the rest of his life the first time he shows his face in Federation territory.

Before Leonard can snap at him, he’s talking. He’s debriefing to Chris, doesn’t seem to care if the channel’s secure or not. He’s got the goods on a conspiracy within the ‘fleet and he just needed to make sure Leonard is safe.

“Safe? Me? Goddammit, Jim!”

Leonard can’t see the wide smile on Jim’s face, but he can hear it when Jim replies, “Just save some of that for me, Bones. Don’t be giving it all up to the Admirals.” There’s a pause, a rustle of fabric, and some guttural language that Leonard doesn’t recognize in the background before Jim continues. “Chris and Phil, keep up the good work. Kirk out.”

Phil pries the comm unit out of Leonard’s fingers and pushes him down to the mattress. He only realizes that he’s shaking when Chris wraps strong arms around him and tugs him close. With Phil in front and Chris behind, he finally breaks down. The tears are cathartic, but nothing compares to the knowledge that Jim’s alive and he’s no traitor.

And when they’re together again, he’ll wring Jim’s neck, right after he’s done kissing the daylights out of him.

The End


End file.
